Cosy
by DarkFlameOfTheMonkey
Summary: Pain. Lots and lots of excrutiating pain. Howe Cinco wondered if THIS was really what being in the Skeletal Circle was all about... In any case, the imprint of her hand was still on his face. And there it would stay... She made sure of that.


**A/N: Another random plot bunny, another plug for the collab-fic I'm working on...**

**This story actually follows alongside the collab-fic (**_**What Lurks in the Darkness, **_**posted on MonkeyMindScream's profile). A prequel, you could say. Light-hearted compared to WLitD. I really would like anyone who is reading this now to go and check the fic out, we seriously want some critique.**

**EXTREME PLOT BUNNY RANDOMNESS WARNING. Also, apologies for any inaccuracies. My video player's stuffed up, so I can't go back and check my taped episodes...**

**Inspired by **_**'Secret Society'**_** and _'Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street'. _And the conversation between MonkeyMindScream and I, about whether or not Ma and Pa Cinco were actually in love when they married or not...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own SRMTHFG. Tragic, isn't it?**

Cosy

"You don't know what you're doing, do you?"

Her boots sent reverberating echoes scurrying to the walls. She came to a stop next to his head. Lying on his back, he could see out of the corner of his eye the gleam of dark brown leather. The flaming torches on the walls made him wince and blink constantly, so he couldn't see her face yet.

"That," she said forcefully, "is _not_ how you bully a novice."

His tormentors were silent, frozen in their standing positions. There were a few looks exchanged, a few shrugs in reply.

Her boot tapped twice, right next to his ear. "_Amateurs._"

He saw her robe pool around her feet as the girl bent down, grabbed the hood of his robe and lifted him off the ground in one swift movement. He was propelled up into the air, his feet leaving the ground.

_A strength spell, _he thought, in the moment of free fall. _Oh bugger._

As he fell back down the girl extended a hand, palm outward. His vision filled with the approaching palm, huge and terrifying.

_She's a Warper? I _hate _it when they do that. _The girl had bent and reshaped reality in a single instant, giving her hand extra reach and amazing size. The ghostly image sent his heart beating more erratically than ever before.

He squeezed his eyes shut as the giant hand made contact. There was a deafening _BWOOM _to signify the moment, and then his face exploded with pain. Howe Cinco somersaulted in mid-air, only to meet the flagstones again.

The girl had her hands on her hips when he regained his vision. "You do it with confidence, _idiots._ Flair, style, originality. Leave your mark on your victim, lay claim to his suffering!" She looked down for a moment, at the prostrate figure on the floor. "You're suffering, aren't you? I need a confirmation. Tell these stupid boys: Are you _suffering?_"

He found the strength to mutter, "Greatly."

"Good," she replied, smiling at the throbbing, red cheek she had given him. One of her better slaps... Pink and gold sparks still hovered above the surface of her skin.

His former bullies regrouped and shuffled out of the chamber, the majority grumbling, "Just 'cause she's a Warper...gets to do all that fancy stuff...doesn't impress me..._no,_ I'm not going to ask her out; _you _ask her out..."

"Howe Cinco, isn't it?" she asked when they had gone. The light from the torches lit her from behind, while her front was bathed in grey. The shadow of her head crossed over his numb body.

"Yes." He rolled onto his elbow and propped himself up briefly. His cheek felt like it was being stabbed by a handful of sewing pins dipped in acid.

"I'm surprised you're not unconscious."

"So am I. And you're Vesper Balin, aren't you?" He got to his knees, then progressed to standing upright.

"I see my reputation has gotten around."

Howe could see the girl clearly now. Her lips were permanently pursed in contempt, giving her cheeks a pinched and sallow look. Her fringe hung over her eyes, and her head was surrounded by a halo (if not a halo, then a strange helmet) of frizzy red hair. She was currently glaring at him.

He didn't like her very much at that moment.

"Go home to your mother, Cinco," her cold voice ordered. "Sit on her lap and cry if you have to, but when you come back here tomorrow, show some _backbone_."

Howe felt the anger rise up his throat, covering him in an undulating heat. But he said nothing.

There was a long silence in the Skeletal Circle chamber as the pair stared at each other. The flames flickered and danced, crackling noisily as the fuel was burnt up, but that was all the movement and sound in the room.

The universe wasn't all that sure if it had _moved_ significantly...

Nothing changed.

Odd.

Vesper, for her account, thought nothing much of this pathetic boy. He was a Circle novice, completely untrained. To give him a 'welcome' was routine. He was thin and weak, cowering in his brown robe –which was much too long for him. His blue eyes exuded anxiety. _Like a squirrel_, she thought, and had to laugh at this.

In later years, however, Vesper Balin had to wonder how the_ hell _she ended up marrying the bloke.

Howe's explanation was not very helpful. He himself was rightly puzzled by how the indignation and mutual dislike transformed into a strange warm and cosy feeling every time they saw each other.

In any case, all he could offer as explanation for his wife was this: "Stop bothering me, woman, and refill the drinks machine out in the shop. The children are getting restless."


End file.
